The Case of the Protectors of Knowledge
by Joshua The Evil Guy
Summary: A Cross Purposes Story. Unbeknownst to those that have already met across space and time, two teams of those dedicated to keeping dangerous magical artifacts safe, will cross paths, further linking their worlds. The Librarians meet the Warehouse Team, and sparks are gonna fly!
1. Prologue In The First

Title: A Cross Purposes Crossover Story: "The Librarians and the 13th Warehouse" or "The Case of the Protectors of Knowledge"

Author: Joshua

Disclaimer: This story is part of the _Brane of Extraordinary Women_ fictional universe, created by _DianeCastle_ , specifically it takes place in two of the established 'universes' that is part of the larger Braneverse; the Bionicverse and the BtVSverse. There may be references to several of Diane's stories, or others that are part of the Braneverse written by other authors. All references are used with permission, after discussion with the appropriate author. This story takes characters and settings from the television shows _Warehouse13_ , (created by Jane Espenson and owned by the SyFy Channel and NBC Universal), and _The Librarians_ , (created by John Rogers and owned by TNT). Though there may be cameos by characters from the _Bionic Woman/Six Million Dollar Man_ , _The Secret World of Alex Mack,_ and _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.

Summary: A Cross Purposes Story. Unbeknownst to those that have already met across space and time, two teams of those dedicated to keeping dangerous magical artifacts safe, will cross paths, further linking their worlds. The Librarians meet the Warehouse Team, and sparks are gonna fly!

Prologue In The First:

 _Smithsonian Museum_

 _Washington D.C._

( _Bionicverse_ )

Aly Mack, special agent for the OSI, settled in for a long night. Normally they'd have a whole surveillance team with standard, yet state-of-the-art equipment doing this kind of job, rather than one of their 'Special Operatives'. Unfortunately, there were special circumstances all their own which required either her, Kate, or Jamie to be on site around the clock, and the only shift she could cover was in the evenings after most of the city had gone to bed, which is where she wished she was right now.

Apparently, in his work overseas, the 'second' Bionic Man, Steve Austin's son, Michael Austin had uncovered a plot by yet another secret conspiracy group. Only, instead of assassination, their goal was espionage and blackmail. Their target, famous author and anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Brennan, who worked at restoring and uncovering artifacts here at the Smithsonian. Having met the woman in passing, Aly couldn't really understand what these people wanted from the good doctor. Sure, she was abrasive and kind of mean, though honest to a fault, but nothing about her background, or her personal history suggested any kind of material that these people could use against her.

As for why the OSI was involved in the first place, beyond Michael's investigation, apparently Willow and Dr. Brennan used to go to the same university and they know each other from that. Of course, Brennan refused any form of protective custody, insisting that she was more than adequate to defend herself. Hence the long-range 'listening' of the OSI's bionic agents.

She was currently on the roof of the building of the section of the Smithsonian where Dr. Brennan's lab was kept. Of course, Aly had taken full advantage of taking all the tours and everything else that the multi-building museum had to offer. It was on the OSI's dime after all, and she had to know the lay of the land, or at least that was her excuse and she was sticking with it.

Dr. Brennan, who by the way wanted everyone to call her " _Dr._ Brennan", was working in her lab with a number of interns as well as her personal assistant, a funny little guy with unkempt brown hair named Zack, on some kind of project that was so important they'd worked until past midnight every night for the past week or so. And as fascinating as it was to listen in on the scientists work, Aly had kind of lost interest after finding that she kept having to look up the definitions to words practically every sentence. And she only had so much availability on her data plan as it was!

Besides, as fascinating as anthropology could be, and parts of it were really interesting, Aly knew that she wasn't about to switch careers and become an Anthropologist. So, while maintaining a cautionary surveillance, she instead brought her homework and a few of the texts that Willow had recommended for keeping up on computer languages and programming.

Her cellphone vibrated as the silent alarm she'd set up went off.

Putting away her books, Aly pulled out the phone and reset the alarm for another random interval, and then began her patrol. She started by 'stretching', a completely useless exercise given that all of her limbs were bionic, save for the fact that it let her fool her mind that she was already in motion and it took her a few seconds less to reach the 'threshold', the point at which the world around her seemed to go into slow motion. Within moments, she was running across the rooftops of the Smithsonian museum, casually leaping across the gap between them with hardly any noticeable effort, her bionic ears and eye working at peak efficiency as she completed her ten-circuit patrol.

Since she was dressed all in black, and staying away from the light sources scattered about, there was very little chance of anyone seeing her. At least, not before she detected them. Speaking of detecting...

Aly came to a sudden halt that would have seriously strained the body of anyone not bionic. She focused on her hearing, trying to pinpoint the location of what she was picking up. It was a conversation. Between a man and a woman, and from the few context clues she'd gotten so far, they were talking about breaking into the museum. She listened a little closer while continuing to try and narrow down their exact location.

"Pete, I'm trying to concentrate here!" the woman 'whispered' harshly, though with Aly's bionic hearing it was as the same as being right next to them.

"I wasn't doin' nuthin!" he said in the same tone that Aly had once used when she was like five years old after messing around with her older sister's things.

"Uh-huh," the woman believed it as much as Aly herself did. The bionic agent could practically hear the rolling of her eyes in her tone. "Now quit it! Do you want us to get caught?"

"We're not gonna get caught," he said.

By this point, Aly had finally managed to narrow down their location and quickly crossed the rooftops to get to the deserted loading dock, where a pair of brunettes, both in their late twenties, were huddled around the back entrance to the museum. Specifically, if she recalled correctly from the general floor plans she'd read through of the place, it lead to the area where new and still-being-researched pieces were kept. At least, those that weren't going directly to one of the many labs scattered throughout the institution. She couldn't see what they were doing exactly, given that they were both huddled around the door, but it was pretty clear that the woman was trying to pick the lock. Though, that didn't explain the odd whirring sounds she was picking up.

Rather than confront them, as her instincts were want to do, Aly instead listened to her training and found a spot where she could observe without being seen. These might be the conspirators that they'd been after all along, or they might be a pair of moronic thieves. Either way, Aly's job here was to protect Dr. Brennan from being blackmailed, _not_ to do the job of the police.

Speaking of...

"All right, got it!" the woman announced.

"Score another for Artie and his gadgets," the man mock-cheered.

"Pete," the woman, who Aly could now see had really curly dark brunette hair, shook her head at her partner, sounding exasperated, but at the same time there were subtle traces of what she saw between Willow and Xander whenever she had dinner over at their house. "Look, let's just get the artifact, make sure that it is the real deal, and then—"

"And then?" he interrupted, perking up like a puppy dog.

"Then we'll see where the night takes us," she smirked and lead the way inside the museum.

The man, Pete, was frozen to the spot for several seconds before hurriedly chasing after his partner in more than one respect.

"Hey Myka, when you say..." the door closed before she could hear the rest of his speech, and Aly didn't particularly _want_ to employ her bionics to catch the rest of it. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial number one.

"Hi, Jamie? It's Aly," she said into the smart phone. "Yeah, there's been a, how would you say it? A development."

—WH-13—

Myka, once she and Pete got to the storage space for the museum, pulled out the Farnsworth, the hand held antique audio-visual communications device, which just so happened to use a signal that was completely untraceable and unhackable. Period. According to Artie, anyway. Flipping the switch, the transmission quickly went through and she the round black-and-white screen flickered to life, showing her the face of her boss, Arthur Nielsen.

"Hey Artie," she greeted him, though making sure to keep her voice down.

"Myka," he nodded in reply, adjusting his thin round glasses atop his scraggly bearded face. "Hello. I take it that you and Pete have gotten into the museum by now?"

"Yeah, we just got to the storage room for the newly arrived pieces," she replied. "Are you going to tell us what this is all about now? I mean, there hasn't been any sign of an Artifact going haywire or anything. No strange happenings, no unexplained phenomena, no unusual deaths or anything like the usual."

"And nothing smells like fudge," Pete broke in as he drifted around behind her as he conducted his own... unique sweep of the place for the Artifact.

"So what gives? What's up with all the secrecy?" she asked, fighting the smile that threatened to spread across her face at her partner's antics.

"Ah, yes, well," the oldest Warehouse agent on the books flustered for a bit, before answering, "I do, ahem, apologize for that, but you see..." he hemmed and hawed for several seconds, until Claudia finally came to his rescue.

"He doesn't actually know what the Artifact _is_ ," the young twenty-one-year-old redhead remarked as she squeezed in beside he mentor on Myka's screen. "Or rather, he didn't before he sent you to go get it."

"Well, that's not so surprising," Myka said, hoping to stem off Artie's temper for a bit longer. "We almost never know what the Artifact is before we get sent out on a Ping. What _is_ surprising is how we get sent out before anything, y'know..."

"Before anything _weird_ happens," Pete said as he came in from her other side this time.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"I, uhm, well, there's a … mamrmtmimfmamcmtmphmamtmphmthemumsmemumph … erhrm!" Artie mumbled into his chest.

"What, sorry, I didn't catch that Artie?" Myka frowned.

Claudia, however, seemed to be fluent in 'mumbling Artie' as the Warehouse Agent could see the look of surprised shock on the girl's face, which was slowly morphing into a very wide grin.

"No. Way!" Claudia Donovan, the tech-savy genius, youngest Warehouse Agent, and future Caretaker of the Warehouse, exclaimed, slapping the old man that was her mentor on the arm. "There's an _Artifact Detector_ at the museum?!"

"No!" he vehemently denied, then wilted and confessed, "Not exactly, anyway."

"Artie?" Myka's voice grew concerned as Pete stopped walking around and peeked in over her shoulder.

"An... Artifact was permanently placed on the site of the Smithsonian Museum about fifty years ago, give or take," he explained with his trademark put-upon sigh. "It is connected to our monitoring system here at the Warehouse, and alerts us when anything of a... significant nature, or power level, comes within range. It went off big time right before I sent you two off to snag it. Fortunately! The readings indicate the Artifact, whatever it is, is dormant. But it had to have come to the museum within the last twenty-four hours, hence..."

"Having us search the storage area for newly arrived, but uncatalogued items," Myka nodded her understanding.

"Exactly!" Artie confirmed. "Now, get that Artifact!" he screamed into the screen before slamming the connection shut.

"Well, somebody didn't get his scone today," Pete mocked, now that there was very little chance of Artie actually hearing him do so.

"And whose fault is that?" Myka teased back as she put away the Farnsworth, absently checking to make sure the Tesla, the only real weapon a Warehouse Agent was equipped with, was available and fully charged. Far too many times to count had they needed it, and it turns out they'd forgotten to charge it, or it would short out after too many shots one after the other.

"Hey!" Pete defended himself. "I'm innocent. This time. I was on the red-eye, with you, trying to get over to DC as fast as humanly possible. Hey, maybe it was Jinks! Or, even Mrs. Frederic! She looks like a woman who likes her scones, know what I'm sayin?"

"Pete," she said warningly.

"Never mind," he quickly retracted his statement. "Artifact. Right. So, if I was a mysterious artifact, being shipped to the Smithsonian, where would I be?"

Myka didn't manage to fully hold back the sigh of exasperation, as she sauntered over to the nearby office desk and soon located and started looking through the manifest. To keep her child-like partner from getting too exasperating, she said out loud, "We can check the manifest to see what came in most recently. That should narrow down the search, and then we just bag each one and see which of them, well..."

"Goes 'gooey kablooey'?" he finished for her.

Not really having a better adjective for the explosion of sparks and power when neutralizing an Artifact, Myka just shrugged. Then frowned as she double-checked the manifest with shipping receipts and other evidence laid out before her on the desk.

"What is it?" Pete asked, noticing her sudden change in expression.

"There," Myka answered with no small amount of dread, and growing sense of a trap, "has only been one shipment in the last forty-eight hours, and it contained only a single item."

"Convenient," Pete grinned, which slowly faded as he observed the pensiveness of her face. "Too convenient?"

"The item was flagged as extremely urgent, and was shipped immediately to the Medico Labs, in the Anthropology department. Specifically, the lab of a Dr. Temperance Brennan. As a matter of fact, the Send To address was for her office here," Myka said.

"Temperance?" Pete repeated. "Who the heck names their kids _Temperance_? And... why do I get the feeling that I should know the name 'Brennan'?"

"Temperance Brennan is the biological daughter," Myka explained as she put down the papers, "of Max and Christine Ruth Keenan."

Pete's own expression dropped to match his partner's.

"Shit," he cursed. "Now those names, yeah, I do know them."

They both stood there, delving unpleasant memories for almost a minute, before Pete snapped them both out of it by asking, "Do we call Artie back? Should we get some back-up? Maybe call the whole thing off and come back with an actual plan, rather than sneak into the country's most prestigious museum to steal the mail from one of their employees? What do we do, Myka?"

Steeling herself for what was to come, as much as she was able, she said, "We go and snag the Artifact. That's our job, Pete. And, preferably, we do it without running into Max and Christine's daughter."

"Considering what those two get up to," Pete said, "I'm pretty sure the apple didn't fall far from the tree. So let's make that a priority." A beat later, he couldn't help asking, "You think she's hot?"

Rolling her eyes, Myka just lead the way through the building, using the _analog password decoder_ as necessary to bypass the electronic security between them and their goal. Rather than risk running into security guards and getting caught on camera by going through the public areas, Myka lead them into the infamous underground tunnel areas beneath the concourse. A quick consult with handy map of the complex, and she soon had them entering the basement area of the Anthropology department building within the Smithsonian.

Right as they were coming to the hallway that would lead to the department head's office, the Farnsworth buzzed, rather loudly and insistently, prompting the pair of agents to hide themselves away in the shadows of an alcove before answering, and even then only speaking in loud whispers.

"Uh, Myka, Pete?" Artie's tone indicated he was concerned, and slowly growing very concerned. "Are you guys still in the museum, and do you have the Artifact yet?"

"Uh, no, not yet," Pete answered for both of them. "And so, yes, of course we're still in the museum. What's up, Artie? What's with the frowny face?"

"Oh, nothing much," Artie finally turned to face them, his gaze until now having been on something besides the Farnsworth. "Just that apparently you've been made, and every law enforcement agency in DC now has a BOLO out on the two of you. Not to mention several SWAT and mobile response units are converging on your location as we speak."

"What?!" Pete and Myka both exclaimed in unison.

"H-how—how could this happen?" Myka stammered. "We've barely been here for half an hour! At the very least, building security should've sent a guard to check the loading dock where we came in before calling for reinforcements, let alone _SWAT_!"

"Oh, it wasn't security that called it in," Artie mumbled, his attention back on, hopefully, his unique computer terminal that always seemed to have the exact answers he needed. More or less.

"Then who, or what was it?" Pete prompted.

"That," he grumbled while pecking away at his terminal, "is what, I am _trying_ , to—gah!—find out! Wh-wh-what?!" he suddenly exclaimed as he was wheeled back out of the way and Claudia took over.

"Move over, Artie!" she ordered, fingers flying over the Steampunk-typewriter-esque keyboard. "And let a master work. Or, in this case, let the Mistress take over. Oh, and here's who, or rather what, called in the tip." She handed him a slip of paper.

"Oh dear," Artie's anger at being shoved aside lost its ire before it could even be properly vented.

" _Artie_!" Pete and Myka both hissed into the Farnsworth at the same time.

"Sorry," he adjusted his spectacles once again. "So, uh, you all remember how I used to be NSA? And, considering our own jobs, it is easy to deduce that there are, of course, other secret organizations out there?"

"I do _not_ like where this is going," Pete groaned.

"Apparently," their boss casually informed them, "there is an agent on site for one such organization, who is so well connected that within minutes of them having detected you, and apparently without you detecting them, has now called every single other law enforcement agency within the tri-state area and gotten them to make looking for you their number one priority."

"What organization has that kind of pull?" Myka wanted to know. "Even the FBI and Homeland Security couldn't work that fast, Artie! For that matter, what kind of field agent has that kind of authority?"

"The OSI," he told them.

Pete and Myka looked at each other and shrugged, while he vocalized for the pair of them, "Never heard of them."

"Uh, short version," Claudia's voice came over the Farnsworth, and Artie briefly adjusted the screen so they could see her furiously typing away at the computer terminal, "they're a department that is pretty high level, connected to both the State, Defense, Justice _and_ Energy Departments. They basically make sure that the US has the pinnacle of all technology and scientific discovery, and keeps the bad guys from getting it first. They work both foreign and domestically. And you two seem to have royally pissed off one of their agents, because an alert just went out for you two, putting you on the No-Fly-List!"

"Wait, what?" Myka exclaimed. "How are we supposed to get back to the Warehouse?"

"Uh, I'll take care of that," Artie readjusted the screen so it was just on him. "Just... get that Artifact! Claudia..."

"Claudia," the redheaded hacker spoke up again, "has just gotten into the Smithsonian's systems and bypassed their security." Artie wasted little time and moved his Farnsworth so it was settled in front of his young protege. "I've taken the cameras and other little goodies, so I can guarantee you five, _maybe_ six minutes, tops. I've also been sending the security guards to check pretty much every location that is as far away from you as it is possible for them to get, and I'll do what I can to keep them off you, but that won't last forever."

"Thanks Claud," Pete gushed. "Any sign on the office where the Artifact was sent to?"

"Uh, gimme a second," more furious typing, "It's clear. The lady in the lab coat that was there earlier just stepped out, and is currently headed toward the cafeteria, looks like. Nearest security guard, unless he starts running, is two minutes out. So, you guys might, y'know, wanna hurry, I'm just saying."

They were already dashing down the hallway and inside of thirty seconds were inside the office of Dr. Temperance Brennan. The door, fortunately, was not locked, and despite the trouble they were now it, luck at least seemed to be on their side, as the package from the manifest was lying there out in the open. Myka quickly confirmed that the Artifact was indeed present with a quick spray of Neutralizer—producing a brief shower of purple sparks just from contact with the plain brown paper wrapping around it—and then they were out and running for the exit before the office door had even finished swinging shut.

Only to be confronted by a masked figure all in black barely ten yards in front of them.

"Who's this guy?" Pete whispered, not exactly quiet.

Aly wasn't quite sure whether or not to be insulted, but at least her outfit was successful in (mostly) hiding her bionically enhanced bust, so she didn't feel as much like a freak. On the other hand, it was really insulting for any woman to be confused for a man! Instead, she just held out her hand expectantly, not saying a word.

They all looked down at the package in Myka's hands, and then the curly-haired brunette tossed her partner the Tesla.

Aly had been shot at enough in her short career with the OSI to know when to dodge and when to risk a charge, and though ten yards was practically nothing to her bionic speed, the way the vacuum-tube-looking gun in the man's hands began to whine, like it was building up a charge, not to mention the sparks of visible electricity coming from it. That was enough of a hint for her to know it was better to dodge.

Pete, afterwards, couldn't be entirely sure what happened. While the Tesla wasn't exactly 'fastest gun in the west', there had been very few times that he'd missed with it, and those could be chalked up to random or unknown effects from some kind of Artifact. All he knew was that this time, he had the person in black dead to rights, center mass, he'd pulled the trigger, the Tesla discharged, and _then_ the guy or whoever dodged to the side so only their left leg was hit, and even then low on the shin and ankle.

"Whoa, did you see that? Damn that was fast!" Pete commented to Myka as they hurried from the room.

"C'mon Pete, let's get out of here!" Myka insisted.

"On the way, Mikes!"

Aly picked herself up off the floor, hobbling a bit as her entire left leg jerked and started in fits before going stone-dead still. She couldn't even get it to swivel or shift from its locked position on her hips. Fortunately, the rest of her was still functioning, but she wasn't about to chase after them with her leg like this. Settling herself on the floor, she pulled out her phone to speed dial Jamie, Rudy, and Oscar, in that order.

Mumbling to herself while the phone rang, "A lightning gun. It _had_ to be a lightning gun. I bet Alex never had to deal with this kind of crud before."

"Jamie?" Aly answered once the call had gone through. "I'm in the museum, just outside Dr. Brennan's office. I think those blackmailers came to retrieve a package or something. And Jamie? These guys have some serious tech. One of them shot me with an actual _lightning gun_! Don't worry, it only got me on the leg, but now my left leg has seized up and I can't pursue. I went ahead, like you suggested, and notified the local LEOs. But you or Kate might want to get down here. … Yeah, I'm calling Rudy next, see if there might be some way for me to fix this myself. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just catch these guys, all right?"

Outside the Smithsonian, Pete and Myka were driving away in their Secret Service rented SUV. They had Artie and Claudia back on the Farnsworth.

"OK, can we talk about what just happened back there? Because, I'm kind of freaking out here!" Pete shouted as he drove through the nighttime streets of Washington D.C. on the way to the airport. "That... person, whatever, moved fast enough to dodge a Tesla _after_ I fired it! That's not normal! That's Artifact level hinkiness, if you ask me!"

"Do you have the Artifact?" Artie demanded to know.

"Yes!" Myka answered, unwrapping the package to reveal a wooden box. Wearing the purple neutralizer-laced gloves, she opened it and aimed the Farnsworth's screen at the interior even as she looked herself. It was a pendant of some kind, with a glass or clear-crystal jewel at the center with a dragon-motif gold border, fused onto an iron setting to which the pendant's chain was attached. "Uh, Artie? What is this thing anyway?"

"Oh dear lord," the grizzled Warehouse Agent gasped out loud. "The _Eye of Heimdall_!"

"The _what_ of who now?" Pete repeated, as Myka reoriented the Farnsworth so they could both see Artie on the circular screen.

" _Heimdallr_ ," Artie elaborated, "Better known as Heimdall, the Norse god that guards the Bifrost, the Rainbow bridge between the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil. That Artifact has been on the Watch List for all Warehouse Agents since _Warehouse Three_! How the... No! Nevermind. You need to get it back here, _ASAP_!"

"What do you think we're doing?" Pete remarked. "We're headed to the airport now. We should be—"

"What part of No-Fly-List did you not understand?!" Artie roared at them through the small video box.

The image jumbled for a bit and when it calmed down, Claudia was on the screen.

"Hi, sorry about that, Artie is taking a breather," she told them. "I'm in the DC traffic system. Got you green lights, and thanks to a little Claudia-magic, you're welcome by the way, nobody can see you on traffic cams. But Artie's right, you're not flying back commercial."

"You can't expect us to actually drive all the way back to the Warehouse, in _a rental_ , do you?" Myka snapped, the stress getting to all of them.

Artie suddenly appeared over Claudia's shoulder, calmer, if not calm, at least.

"Get to Norfolk Air Base," he ordered. "I've called in a favor. There's a flight leaving in less than an hour. It will be going to Edwards Air Force Base in California."

"You mean it will 'officially' be going to Edwards," Pete pointed out, using only one hand to do the air-quotes, since he was driving.

"No, it'll be going to Edwards, no stops, no layovers, and not landing at the Rapid City Regional Airport, or anywhere else before reaching Edwards," he said in his 'I am not kidding' deadpan tone of voice. Which suddenly switched to his lighter 'I know you are gonna hate this, but I am still not joking' tone when he asked, "You're both HALO certified, right?"

"ARE YOU KIDDING?!" they both screamed, and Pete nearly had a traffic accident, but his reflexes were still top notch, thankfully.

"Pete, you were in the army, right? You've jumped out of an airplane before," Artie tried to be nonchalant about what he was asking of them.

"I was a _Marine_ ," he corrected. "And... yes, but only like half a dozen times, tops! It has actually been _years_ since I last did anything in a plane that wasn't just sitting there watching a movie and eating peanuts, Artie! And you're supposed to get like a week of ground school before they ever take you up! And, please correct me if I'm wrong, but Myka hasn't even had that much, have you?"

"No, I am not HALO certified, nor have I jumped out of a plane... or even thought about doing so. I'm pretty sure I made certain that it was never even on my Bucket List, for that matter," she informed everyone listening. "Artie, please tell me that there is some other way back to the Warehouse. Please?"

"Nope. Sorry," he said as he cut the connection.

The two Warehouse Agents sat there in silence as Pete turned toward the exit that lead to Norfolk.

"I'm going to kill him," Myka vowed, her voice flat and very angry.

"I'll help hold him down," said Pete.

It was going to be a long trip back to the Warehouse.

 _Continued..._


	2. Prologue In The Second

Prologue In The Second:

 _O'Stark & Son Auction House_

 _West End, Boston, MA_

 _Night_

( _BtVSverse_ )

Faith Lehane, second strongest, but most badass Slayer alive, lead her squad through the streets in a somewhat casual search and clearance pattern. To any civilian, and hopefully vampires or demons watching them, the group of girls and two guys in long coats, were just ambling along like any crowd, crisscrossing along each others paths and sometimes bunching up and then scattering at random. A trained police or military person would note how no one in the group went further than a few meters out from the rest, and how the two in the coats were always at the exact center, no matter how spread out or bunched up the group got. Also, unlike truly random crowds, nobody bumped into each other or got in the others way, no random stops and starts or anything like could happen in a crowd of individuals.

As much as he could sometimes get under her skin, same as he got under _everybody's_ skin as a matter of fact, Jack O'Neill had been pretty awesome since he'd joined up with them. Teaching all the baby Slayers all sorts of things, including simple tactics like how to conduct a proper patrol of an area without getting ambushed too bad. Of course nothing was fool proof, and the Watchers Council was not a, strictly speaking, 'military' organization, so some adaptation was required. Hence the 'casual' part of their current search and clearance pattern.

If they were a real military outfit, chatter would be kept to a minimum, and rather than acting like body guards for their Watcher (her boyfriend/lover/?; Robin Wood) and their mage (funny kid, went by the name Tim), they would most likely have been in some kind of armored vehicle to boot. Or at least on horseback. But no, they were _Vampire Slayers_. They did their patrols on foot. The fact that they could actually outrun those same vehicles and horses, in short sprints, was the most common joke told on patrols like these.

A few of them even had their cellphones out, texting and stuff.

Faith hadn't really had the luxury growing up, so in spite of the fact that she had a top-of-the-line model and a fully paid for service, she only ever really used her phone for making calls, or occasionally the camera. She didn't really bother with texts and all those games and apps were just not for her. They same could not be said for most of the other girls in her team. Heck, even Tim had his cell out!

That was probably why she was the first to notice them.

Even with the late hour, the streets of Boston were hardly quiet. Though there were few pedestrians, there were plenty of other people on the street besides the half-dozen Slayers, plus Watcher and Mage. There were not, however, enough to completely hide the statuesque blond in a black jumpsuit, or the Watcher-wannabe next to her as they tried to break into the auction house across the street from her.

It took her no more than a few seconds to recognize who she was looking at.

"No way," Faith exclaimed, a wicked grin growing across her face.

"What?" Wood asked, coming to a slow halt.

"Check it out," she nodded her head to the other side of the street.

He looked, stared for maybe thirty seconds or so, and then her grin grew wider when she saw the slow realization spread across his face.

"G's gonna _love_ this," the Dark Slayer cackled.

"Heads up," Faith said/called out in a tone that the normal person couldn't hear outside of a few feet, especially amidst the noisy streets of Boston, and yet the loose gathering of Slayers all came to attention as though she'd shouted at them from a bullhorn. "We're gonna set up a perimeter. Pair off, one to watch and record, the other to watch their backs. Half on the ground, split front and back, rest on the roofs. Wood and I are on oversight. Coms up."

They moved with purpose, but in a scattered way so that unless one had been watching them the whole time, no one would have guessed that the group was in fact a group as they moved across the street and set up at various positions around the auction house.

"What's going on, Faith?" Rona asked via the coms, once they were all in position.

"Take a look," the brunette replied. "Tall blond. Black pantsuit. The brown-haired guy next to him, kinda gives off geeky vibes, despite wearing a nice three-piece suit."

"Yeah, what about him?" the Sunnydale-survivor questioned. "Are they another team? Is he her Watcher? Not bad. At least he's not wearing tweed."

"Almost as bad though," Carlotta, one of the local Slayers, commented. "Although, he does make the shades of brown and beige work for him, the pattern just screams..."

"Librarian?" Faith and Wood both said into the coms at the same time.

"Wait, seriously?" Rona suddenly sounded a lot more interested.

"What? What is it? What?!" the others all wanted to know what was going on.

"OK, OK, OK," Faith hurried to explain as the couple they were watching broke into the Auction house... by friggin _guessing the owners password_! "You've all heard of the Library, right?"

"Uhh..." was the collective response.

"Oh come on!" Rona cried out, exasperated. "Mr. Giles goes on entire _rants_ about them! The _Library_! As in, the people that go around collecting and housing the greatest collection of magical knowledge and artifacts in the whole world! For generations, it was just the Librarian and his, or her, Guardian. And then, a few years back—right before that surge of mana throughout the Ley Lines that Willow and all the mages were going on about—they go and hire on an extra bunch of Librarians on top of a brand new Guardian. Its why nobody talks about or even uses the L-word around Mr. Giles anymore!"

"Yeah, there's more to it than that," Faith said, a 'Canary-Chewing Cat' grin on her face.

"Not much more," Wood said, bursting her bubble. "Whenever the previous Librarian dies, the Library sends out invites to the most qualified individuals throughout the world to come in for an interview. Giles, with his multiple degrees, and magical background, and training as a Watcher was more than qualified. But, even when there was an opening, before he ever went to Sunnydale or met Buffy, he was never sent an invitation."

"No way! Wow! Seriously?! NO _way_!" they all chattered.

"Yeah," Faith said with a sigh. "Turns out that the Library and the Watcher's Council had some kind of agreement from way back in the day. No poaching. If you're a Watcher, even if you _could be_ a Librarian, the Library can't touch you. And for the ones a part of the Library, well, G-Man confirmed it; Watchers and Slayers are told to 'Back Off'! Which means that no matter what these two get up to, we can't interfere, capiche? Course, doesn't mean we can't make sure that they don't get interrupted by vampires or demons and whatnot. And best way we can do that is watch the Librarian and his Guardian do their thing."

"Uh huh," Wood drawled, rolling his eyes at his girlfriend/maybe-something-more? He pulled out his phone, saying, "I'm calling Giles. Besides, he wants to be kept apprised of the Librarian's movements."

—TL—

Eve Baird and Flynn Carson were on a date. Or, the closest thing that they ever got to a 'date' these days.

Or... _any_ 'date' that they'd ever been on, come to think of it. Even when it turned out romantic and sweet, they had actually started off on some other adventure or quest or even just the premise of one. And the handful of times they'd planned to have a "normal dinner date" like "regular people", _something_ inevitably happened so they wound up on an adventure or caught up in some nefarious plot.

Ooh, 'Nefarious'. Flynn would be so proud.

Speaking of whom, the senior, but no longer only, Librarian was leading her down the streets of Boston, presumably to wherever this Artifact they were retrieving was being stored at. She'd caught mention of an auction house here and there amidst the prattling of his encyclopedic knowledge of the city and its history, and occasional suave flirting. So when they walked by the only auction house on the street, she subtly steered her Librarian (Read: manhandled) toward the correct place.

"Remind me, again, what is it exactly that we're doing here, Flynn?" Baird said as she watched for threats while he worked on getting them inside. "And by that, I mean why did _we_ have to come retrieve this Artifact? Why not Stone and Cassandra, or even just Ezekiel? This is supposed to be our date night. We've said that we wanted to try bowling. There probably is a bowling alley not too far from here..."

"Eve," Flynn interrupted her in that 'disappointed' patronizing tone of his. He had a lot of different 'tones' that came out as patronizing, come to think of it. "Eve, Eve, Eve! I would love to go bowling with you. Provided I could get a promise that I would not be physically assaulted upon beating you with a nine/ten split and over 270 on my score card."

"Ahaha—ha," she laughed at him. "Not likely. Besides, that wouldn't be an issue if we were on the same team, now would it?"

"True," he smiled back at her.

"Now, seriously, what are we doing here?" she reminded him of her original question.

"In ancient times, to the far north," Flynn began lecturing, "The Norse people, commonly referred to as vikings, believed that the world was held upon the branches of a giant tree, called Yggdrasil. One of these branches held the realm known as Asgard, home of the Aesir, the Norse gods. Because they were vikings, a number of these gods would be considered gods or goddesses of war. The one that was best known for the title, however, was the Aesir known as _Tyr_. Also called Tiw by the Celts, Ziu in Old High German, Tyz by the Goths, or Tiwaz in the proto-Germanic languages..."

"For those of us that only speak _modern_ English, however?" she interrupted with practiced ease.

"Ah, uh that would be Tyr," he blushed slightly and refocused on getting the door open. Only to suddenly stand up as he couldn't help adding, "Interestingly, he is the origin of where we get the word 'Tuesday'. Originally it was known as the Day of Tiw, or ' _Tiwesd_ _æ_ _g_ '. Which originated it..." He stopped talking when she slapped him upside the head and pointed him back at the electronic security lock.

"That is interesting," Baird commented with no small amount of sarcasm. "Especially given that it just so happens to be Tuesday. For the next two and three-quarter hours anyway. Is that why we're here? Because the Artifact can only be taken to the Library on a Tuesday?!"

—TL—

"Uhh... has anybody checked on Dawn lately?" Faith suddenly wanted to know.

Robin pulled out his cellphone and made a quick few calls.

—TL—

"Eve," Flynn shook his head, scoffing. "We're not here because it is Tuesday! No! We're here because the _Fang of Tyr_ has finally surfaced, and we need to get it to the Library before anyone else hears about it and tries to get to it first!"

" _Fang_ of Tyr?" Baird repeated, paying closer attention now, as the Librarian finally got the door open and they quickly moved inside and disabled the security alarm with the same code.

"It ties in with the legend, well, myth really, involving Tyr and the giant wolf Fenrir," he explained. "You see..."

"Short version," his Guardian snapped at him.

"Short version," Flynn nodded his agreement as they moved purposefully through the Auction House to the offices on the upper floors. "The gods needed to trap Fenrir with unbreakable chains, so that he wouldn't be able to hurt them or anyone else, but Fenrir wouldn't allow it, _unless_ one of the Aesir agreed to put their arms in his mouth. None of them would agree to that, except for Tyr. He put his arm in the giant wolf's mouth while the other gods tied him down. When Fenrir found he could not escape, he bit down and took off Tyr's hand."

"Gruesome," Baird commented. "But then again we are talking about a bunch of viking gods, so there is that."

"That was the story that sponsored Tyr as not just a god of war, but of law and justice as well," Flynn concluded. "By sacrificing his arm, the same way that Odin had sacrificed his eye for wisdom. The _Fang of Tyr_ is a magical artifact, well, weapon really. A glass dagger. Or probably crystal. Or something else entirely. The hilt is that of a golden serpent. It was said, that when an evil—or more like guilty—man was cut with the dagger, he died instantly. Likewise, if an evil man tried to _use_ the weapon, then his arm would be damaged instead, the same as Tyr's. If a good or innocent man were to be cut with it, then there would be a flash of light and the person would remain uninjured."

"I can see why you'd want something like that to be kept in the Library," she remarked. "Why haven't you already tried to secure it, come to think of it?"

"I, eh, I, it-it-it, it's a bit of a long story," he stammered, suddenly hurrying down the hall toward the office of the Head of the Auction House. "Not really something we have time for, and besides, we need to focus on the mission at hand, not... missed opportunities..."

"Uh-huh," Baird narrowed her eyes. She had a feeling that it had to do with one of Flynn's many solo adventures over his ten year tenure as the only Librarian, and involved one of the surprisingly many women that had accompanied him on said missions. Some of which had become actual girlfriends, before giving up on him.

"So," she said, allowing him an out, this time, "how'd you hear about this... dagger of Tyr, anyway? For that matter, how sure are you that it even still is here?"

"Fang of Tyr. And, ah, well, funny story that," he allowed himself a brief chuckle before hastily explaining. "I happen to know the owner and proprietor of this particular Auction House. We're friends. I think. It's very... difficult to explain. Mostly because he's a difficult person to describe, really."

"So do you know Mr. O'Stark, or his son?" she inquired deductively.

"Ah, hahaheheh..." Flynn laughed in the tone she recognized as she had apparently said something that was entirely wrong and he realized halfway through laughing at her that he should really not laugh at her. "Heh. Eh, neither. Technically speaking. Like I said, difficult to explain. Let's just say that Rimmi is one of a kind, and leave it at that, shall we? Anyway, he gave me a call this afternoon, we talked for a bit, and then he dropped the bombshell that he had the Fang of Tyr and was ready to turn it over to the Library. Then I went and got you, and we took the Backdoor to the Boston Commons on our way here."

"Yes, the mile and a half hike through the city was exactly what I wanted to do on our date night," Baird rolled her eyes at him.

"Are you saying that you did not enjoy looking at the city lights, or the various street performances?" he pointed out. "Admittedly, it's not Broadway on New York City, or New Orleans during Mardi Gras, but Boston certainly has a charm all its own. You know, we should come back and take the Freedom Trail tour some time..."

"And have you out-lecture the tour guides?" she snapped. "No thank you. But. I will admit that the view was nice. I'm just glad we didn't bring Stone along. We'd never get him away from all those houses on the Beacon Hill before dawn. And even then, I'd probably have to knock him out to do it."

"Or Ezekiel," Flynn said, "He'd have robbed poor Rimmi blind before we actually managed to get the Fang back to the Library. And Cassandra would undoubtedly get drawn into all the numerous mathematical secrets hidden in plain sight by the Free Masons. Hence me bringing my favorite Guardian along instead of the whole family."

"I'm your only Guardian," she teased back. Then frowned when she saw how he briefly shut down for just a second before refocusing on the task at hand.

"Where is he?" Flynn asked out loud, seeing that all the offices were locked up tight and dark. "I told him I was coming. It wasn't _that_ long ago, and he's the one that called me so late."

"Flynn, what's wrong?" she wanted to know.

"I'm not... sure . . ." he trailed off as he tried the last door, which opened with a rather ominous creak. And then they both saw his reason for concern; the office was completely trashed, papers all over the floor, furniture overturned... and a dead body on the floor, with the head placed like a grisly paper weight at the center of the desk. The head was of a bald white man with many lines on his face and a full gray beard. There might also have been some old scarring around his temples and tattoos all over his skullcap, but they were very faded and inconsequential to the very obvious 'scar' that was his decapitated neck!

"Oh Rimmi," Flynn sighed mournfully.

And suddenly, with no more warning than that, the head came to life, opening its eyes and mouth and speaking with very thick 'Northern' accent, if one lived among the British Isles.

"Ahh! Oh! Who's there? Eh? What's this now? I say, you... oh," the head looked down and saw the decapitated body and the shocked looks upon the two intruders' faces. "Well, have to be traditional about these sort'a things, now don't we? So then, let's go ahead and get it all outta the way, then, eh?" He, the head, then seemed to take a deep breath, and let out a surprisingly shrill scream, which instantly prompted Flynn and Eve to start screaming too, so soon they were all screaming.

" _AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH_!"

—TL—

"OK, quick check," Faith spoke into the coms, her tone decidedly _un_ happy. "Did anybody go rogue and off Rimmi O'Stark without approval or say-so? And let me just say this, there will be a special kind of Slayer-Hell to pay if someone claims that there _was_ approval!"

"Nobody attacked O'Stark, Faith," Carlotta was quick to assure the Dark Slayer. "He's on the list as one of the Good Ones. Plus, all the locals know him. He tells a good story, if you let him. And he's tapped into the local Community, and he's all about keeping the world turning and, as he puts it," she then did a passable impression of his 'North' accent, " _stave off Raganarok for as long as possible. Lad's been through enough as it is_. So he always lets us know when something big is coming, or if there are vampires making trouble, or even that bit of trouble last spring with that Revenant infestation. He doesn't do any fighting, but if he were human, he'd probably be an OK Watcher. So, no, nobody would've attacked O'Stark!"

A sinking feeling suddenly welled up in Faith's gut. She looked over at Robin, who looked right back at her, his dark face a grim mask.

"Eyes up! We've got incoming!" Faith snapped into the coms, using the same phrase that O'Neill did in training. She herself started looking all around for the signs of the incoming threat, which she was more certain than ever was headed their way. Or rather, headed Rimmi's way, pun absolutely intended.

Didn't take her long to find it.

"Fucking trolls!" Faith cursed at the sight of the lumbering beasts as they made their way down the path.

—TL—

"AAAHHHHH!"

They all stopped screaming at, more or less, the same time, as apparently even magically talking decapitated heads needed to breathe.

Rather than start screaming again, the head began speaking conversationally to them.

"Ah, Flynn Carson! Hello there! Didn't quite recognize you. Not when you're standing next to a vision of the Queen of the Valkyries herself. Hello there, milady. I'd offer my hand, but, well, I seem to be quite detached from it at the moment, so I do apologize."

"Flynn!" Baird screamed at the Librarian. "There's a _talking head_ on the desk. And I can see the blood and he's not exactly upright, so I _know_ that it is not just some guy sitting there inside the desk with his head through a hole! _Explain_!"

"Ack, that's gonna be a pain to scrub off," the head scowled as it somehow shifted (Eve assumed the answer would inevitably be 'magic') so that it was no longer sitting in the blood on the desk. "Oh, do go on and tell her, brother. She's your Guardian, yes? She has as much right to know as anyone."

"Brother?" Baird gasped out, looking back and forth between Flynn and the head.

"Figure of speech," Flynn waved off the head's comments. "Eve, may I proudly introduce you to a living myth. Or un-living, as the case may be. This is," he waved his arms in a bit of a flourished presentation, " _Mimir_ , the wise man and counselor to the gods. And a former Faun, but thanks to ancient magics, now a reanimated head."

"Mimir..." Baird repeated, and then blinked as her head tilted in thought. "Rimmi... Oh, you did the whole anagram of your name thing. OK, so, just another magical immortal. Like Jenkins. Only, just a head."

"Ah, you speak of noble Galahad, there?" the now identified Mimir said. "Sadly, no. Galahad and the other Knights that managed to touch the Grail of the Lord's Son, they are true immortals. I'm just a reanimated head, lass. I'm dead, and this here is my afterlife. My heaven and my hell. There will be no Valhalla, nor even Helheim for me. Unless of course someone carries my head across the rainbow bridge and leaves it there. T'were the enchantments binding my soul to fade, I'd be condemned to wander the earth the same as any displaced spirit. Tis why I do what I can to make sure that the magic keeping me going remains strong, or at least refreshed every now and then. This way, I can stay and advise those that needs my help. Like your Librarian here, and several before him, aye. Since I have no great reward waiting for me at the end, I figure it is my duty to help and ensure the success of those seeking to protect this world from destruction, or damnation."

"And, I'm just throwing this out there," Baird commented as they fully entered the room and Flynn started doing his 'Sherlock' thing, "but why isn't it—he, why aren't you _in_ the Library? Jenkins would love to have another immortal, or long-lived wise person, to have conversations with."

"Don't get me wrong there, milady," Mimir grinned. "I've been to your Library, and it is indeed a wondrous place. But your Library and its Librarians and Guardians are not the only force for Good, or even Balance, in this world. And what could I do to help all the others out here, doing their part, if you keep me all to yourselves? Besides, this is the modern age, as they say. Noble Galahad and I, and a few others, have each others numbers, so to speak. Now then, what is it brother? I can tell that something has your dandruff all up."

"This," Flynn said, pointing at the decapitated body on the floor, "is not your body."

"What?!" both of those present (and maybe a few out on the street) exclaimed at the same time.

"Lemme see!" Mimir demanded, sort of neck-hopping along the desk top. "Here, Guardian! Pick me up! Oh, don't look like that. I'm not the disgusting sort of head, and I need to see what your Librarian has to say!"

Taking a breath and biting the bullet, so to speak, Baird reached over grabbed Mimir on either side and carefully picked him up and held him above the decapitated body as Flynn pointed out the clues. Thankfully, it was kind of like holding onto a similarly-sized hairless animal, so she didn't have to fight off the urge to vomit. Too much.

"For starters," Flynn began listing his observations, "this body is a human male, I would say somewhere in his mid-thirties, dressed appropriately for the owner and proprietor of an Auction House, but this attire is off-the-shelf quality, not tailored. Also, there is the wound. For starters, this wound was not caused by a blade or any implement of cutting. A typical forensic investigator would most likely say that this was caused by a shotgun or some other directed explosive. They would be wrong of course."

"Aye, this is indeed not my body," Mimir agreed. "Y'see Milady, my original body was trapped and bound in place a long, long time ago. A... friend, I s'pose you could say, helped me out by cutting off my head and getting it reanimated using the Old Magics. But it is no way to go on adventures if you're just a talking head strapped to someone's belt. So, I had a couple Dwarf blacksmiths build me up a new body. Using modern terminology, you might call it a magical robot, or more accurately a golem body. Now, brother, how do you know what did or didn't cause this poor unfortunate soul's demise?"

"The burn marks," Flynn answered smugly.

"What burn marks?" Baird questioned, looking closely.

"Precisely!" he exclaimed. "There aren't any! A shotgun, or any kind of explosive would definitely have left some kind of burn mark. While this man's head was blown clean off, it was a magical explosion, not a mundane one. See the flecks of flame-hued discoloration around the internal tissue? This was caused by an artifact. If I had to guess, most likely the Fang of Tyr. He was probably here to take your place, Mimir, and try and get the Fang, or he knew you'd contacted me and was going to try and give me a fake one to take back to the Library."

"Check his chest!" Mimir suddenly shouted.

"What?" Baird was confused.

"His chest! Check the body's bloody chest already!" he yelled more urgently.

Flynn instantly had the body flipped over and the shirt and jacket torn open, to reveal a rather complex runic array tattooed into the man's flesh.

"Oh dear," Flynn mumbled as he backed away from the body.

If it weren't physically impossible, and even then she wouldn't discount 'magically possible', Baird would have sworn that Mimir's head was shaking in rage between her hands.

"Uh, Mimir?" the blond said to the head in her grasp. "Are, are you OK? What is it? Some kind of message?"

"It's a bomb, Eve," Flynn told her. "Not the explosive kind, unfortunately. I know exactly how to deal with every kind of normal and magical variant of _that_. It's a... a homing beacon, of sorts. It draws in every nasty kind of monster that is described in the runes. Even if those monsters don't actually exist, they'll manifest out of the local mana field, or even from the ley lines themselves, if you're close enough. And... Boston is close enough."

"And yes, lass," Mimir said, an undeniable anger underlying his words. "It is a message as well. There's a safe. Get me to it. You've got a Mystic Doorway, yes?"

"The Backdoor? Sure," Baird answered, while Flynn went to the wall behind the desk and very quickly revealed and opened the safe. The combination was actually printed on the back of the hinged painting, making it quick and easy.

"You'll be wanting to open that Doorway as quick as you please," said Mimir. "Put me up on the pedestal there, Milady. Facing outward. This next part may get a bit, eh... bright."

That was an understatement, as sun-hued magical energy began to shine from Mimir's eyes, and mouth, and even the faded tattoos on his wrinkled head, before it was like he'd become an _actual_ sun, shining out of the wall safe. There was the sounds of metal moving and mechanisms shifting, and finally the light faded and when the Guardian and the Librarian were able to see once more, they bore witness to Mimir's true body. Baird finally realized that he meant 'Dwarf' as in Tolkien. Because those were the only kind of Dwarfs around that she could think of that could create something like what she was looking at now!

At first glance, you'd say that he was just wearing a very tight set of full plate armor that came up past his neck. Except Baird knew what plate armor really looked like, and there were always gaps between them that showed the gambeson—a padded jacket—or chain mail worn underneath the armor. Not to mention, despite what animated fiction might have some people believe, the hands were always left unfettered, maybe a thick glove, but never any metal covered anything more than the dorsal of the hand. The closer she looked, the more Baird identified Mimir as a cyborg, or just a talking head with a robot body.

It was a finely crafted piece of... she was about to say 'technology', but that wasn't right. The frame that it was modeled upon must have been a very large man with a massive chest and wide shoulders. There was also an odd pattern to the coloring; a sort of swirl of thick red lines across the chest, back and arms. The armor itself was a pale, faded metallic color. It almost look like white ash, from a distance, save for the red swirls.

"You two had best be moving on," Mimir told them. He reached up to some hidden(?) compartment behind his 'back' and pulled out the very same Fang of Tyr, exactly as Flynn described it. "They'll be here soon, and I need to hold them off while you get this somewhere safe. Bah! What am I thinking!" He hastily pulled back the crystal and gold blade.

"Almost got you two killed, for all I know," he muttered as he quickly moved over to the wall opposite the outside windows. He pulled a 'decoration' (although Baird wondered about that) off the wall and sheathed the Fang inside it, before taking a wooden box off the shelf and placing it inside. "There you are. Don't want you risking your own arms, or heads as this poor fellow found out."

"Wait!" Baird exclaimed. "The Fang did _that_?!" she pointed at the body on the floor.

"I may have, incorrectly, assumed the part that it was just the arm that was, uh, _damaged_ by the Fang when used upon the, _erhrm!_ , guilty." Flynn said.

Baird already had her phone out and was screaming into it, "Jenkins! We need a door!"

The closed closet door suddenly lit up with magical energy. Librarian and Guardian moved toward it, but Flynn held back.

"Mimir, are you... going to be OK?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, don't you worry yourself about me, brother," the ancient adviser to the gods grinned. He sort of 'shrugged' and the armor that was his body shifted around some and suddenly he was holding a pair of hefty axes in both hands. "I know how to take care of myself after all this time. Those trolls won't know what hit them!"

Flynn and Eve nodded and they pulled open the door and quickly bounded through the vortex of shining magical energy. The door shut itself with a vacuumed slam.

Two seconds later, a troll came flying through the windows on the street side. It was very quickly dead as the lithe dark-haired beauty atop it finished cutting through its neck. She flipped her hair back and grinned at the mystical cyborg, absently cleaning her claymore on the troll's hyde before it began to vanish like burning ash in the wind.

"Hey Rimmi!" she greeted him.

"Ah! Faith! Lass, you are a sight for wearied eyes, in more ways than one," he remarked with a warm grin. "I had no idea you were back in town. Got that wee bit of trouble taken care of, then?"

"Yeah, no sweat," the Dark Slayer grinned as they walked up to the edge of the hole she'd put in the side of his building. "B and Lil'Al took care of things, no prob. Know what this is about?" She gestured down at the hoard of trolls that her Team was laying into.

"Aye, sadly I do," Mimir confessed. "But that is a bit of an involved story, and not one told in the heat of battle. Shall we, milady?"

"You always know how to show a girl a good time, Rimmi," Faith laughed as Slayer and cyborg jumped into the fray below.

 _Continued..._


	3. A Light On In The Warehouse

Chapter 1: A Light On In The Warehouse

 _Warehouse 13_

 _Somewhere In South Dakota, USA_

( _Bionicverse_ )

Pete and Myka, mostly Myka, slammed the door open as they traipsed into Artie's office. Pete was still in the middle of packing away his chute, while the curly haired brunette was glaring at the back of her boss's head. Said boss could feel the gaze, hence his fastidious attention to his computer terminal.

"Artie!" she screamed at him.

Claudia and her partner, Steve Jinks, had just been coming in from the main area of the Warehouse to welcome back their coworkers and friends, abruptly did and about face and went to do inventory or security checks or even to just go clean out the Gooery, anything that would keep them out of the line of fire of Myka's wrath for as long as possible.

"Artie!" Myka shouted. "How could you? What were you thinking?! I've never done anything like that in my life, I've never even _thought_ about jumping out of a plane before, and you throw me to the wolves and expect me to make due with only a few hours of _in-flight training_?! With no ground schooling whatsoever!"

"You're here, aren't you?" he pointed out, adjusting his round spectacles.

"Thanks to Pete!" she yelled in his face.

"We did a tandem parachute drop," Pete explained, remarkably subdued given the circumstances.

"See, it all worked out fine," Artie said, turning back to his terminal, but Myka spun him around to face them.

"That is not the point!" she shrieked.

"No!" Artie bellowed back up at her. "The _point_ is that you got the Artifact back here safely! The point is that its a small miracle the Artifact didn't trigger or activate or do something en route that would have killed the two of you and all of the soldiers on that plane! Let alone in the middle of the _Smithsonian Museum_! So, I do apologize that the two of you ran into a Black Ops agent who immediately put the two of you at the _top_ of the nation's Most Wanted List and on every BOLO between here and Washington D.C. and I then had to call in a very expensive favor to get the two of you back to the Warehouse safe and sound! Oh, but far be it from me to do my job and look out for the two of you, because you didn't want to jump out of an airplane!"

The older Warehouse Agent then readjusted his round spectacles, cleared his throat, and smoothed down his vest. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go through and start scrubbing your description and whatever photos that might exist out there from every single BOLO that has been issued or passed along. And, of course I'll need Claudia's help with that. Claudia!" he bellowed one more time. "You two, go with Jinks and find out where we need to put that thing. And don't forget to Neutralize it first! Just because it _didn't_ activate, doesn't mean that it still won't! Go on, go! You've snagged and bagged, now it is time to tag it!"

Myka closed her hanging-open mouth and visibly made herself calm down. As much as she wanted to argue with the man, he was, unfortunately, right on all counts. Seeing that she was tagging out, so to speak, Pete stepped up.

"Yeah, Artie, about that," he said. "Who exactly are we up against here? Did we just seriously step into the middle of a Spec Ops surveillance operation, or are we being, y'know," he shrugged at the both of them, " _targeted_ again, like with Sykes or McPherson or H.G. Wells? Or practically every single one of our enemies?"

"Fortunately," Artie replied, already typing away as he accessed and hacked into the databases of multiple law enforcement agencies, "it would appear to be more the former rather than the latter. I'm also covering your footprints, just in case it is somebody targeting us directly. And don't think that I forgot you two mentioning the Keenans earlier. If they sent an Artifact to their daughter, it was so they could come back and try to retrieve it later. I'm doing what I can so that everyone thinks that it was the two of them there in the Smithsonian last night, instead of you guys."

"Right, OK, good to know," Pete nodded along. "Did you make cookies? Cause I smell cookies."

"Whatever's left should be on the table over there, help yourself," Artie waved him off distractedly.

"C'mon Pete, let's get this shelved," Myka grumbled.

"But... cookies!" he whined as he was dragged out the door and onto the catwalk overlooking the Warehouse proper.

" _Claudia_!" Artie bellowed one final time.

"All right!" she screamed back as she rushed in to help him with the hacking.

WH-13—TL

 _The Library_

 _St. Johns Bridge, Portland, OR_

( _BtVSverse_ )

The man calling himself Jenkins sighed in contentment as he went about sorting through the collection of ancient tomes and secret knowledge scattered atop the central table of the Annex. It was quiet days like these that he lived for, that made his immortality truly worthwhile. Moments of quiet reflection and genuine peace. Even before the events leading to his lengthened lifespan, Sir Galahad of the Round Table, Knight of Camelot, had taken the time to relax and unwind, often spending whole days curled up with a good book by the fire.

"JONES!"

"WHAT?! Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

"Wait! It's my fault, I'm sorry! Hey!"

And then there was the reality of today.

Jenkins raised his head to the ceiling and sighed aloud, before preparing himself and closing up the last of the tomes he'd been perusing and moved to put them properly away.

The three Librarians came into the Annex, shouting at one another for some mishap with one of the Artifacts, or perhaps Ms. Cillian was experimenting with her self-dubbed 'Mathemagicks' again and something had gone awry there. He silently observed each of them in turn as he counted the moments until he would, inevitably, be forced to intervene.

The Library, a legend and a central pillar of the world's balance. Born upon the corner stones of the Library of Alexandria, and built with the power from the Tree of Knowledge, found and protected by a Knight of the Realm in the First Crusade. That Knight became known as the First Librarian, though he preferred most people to call him Judson. Under the guidance of its First Librarian, and his companion, who became the First Guardian, the Library became a force for good and balance within the world. Combating and containing _True Evil_ , collecting and safeguarding all forms of mankind's knowledge and innovation by cataloging and storing copies of every book, scroll, document, and Artifact (most of them magical) that humans ever developed.

Of course, that First Librarian was a knight in more than just name, so he often went out, not just to gather more materials to put into his Library, but to stop the monsters and save people from the threat of wild magic and those that would use knowledge, and magic, for evil purposes. He set the example, and so when he realized that he could no longer continue as he was, his Guardian having already 'retired' and chosen a successor for herself, he set another precedent by sending out invitations to the most brilliant minds humankind had to offer, to come in for an interview, to determine which among them would become the next Librarian. The second Librarian died on his very first mission, and another round of interviews were conducted. And so it went through the ages.

Until the Library chose a scatterbrained, more-interested-in-learning-than-doing grad student who'd just been forcibly graduated with _twenty-two_ degrees under his belt, named Flynn Carson. In rather a reverse of fortune, rather than be killed himself, Flynn 'lost' his first Guardian, and then worked alone, on his own, with only his wits and knowledge, for the next decade. During which he accomplished many fantastic feats among them being the recovery of the Spear of Destiny, the safeguarding of King Solomon's mines, and the defeat of Dracula, among many many many other adventures. And then the Library chose a new Guardian, whose hiring requirements differed somewhat from the interview process of getting a new Librarian; Colonel Eve Baird, NATO counter-terrorism and US Army.

Whether this was in response to the threat the Library currently faced with the Serpent Brotherhood killing off former Librarian candidates, or some deeper and more prolific, (Read 'Prophetic'), meaning, Jenkins couldn't begin to guess. All he did know was that on the same day that Colonel Baird showed up for her new job, she and Flynn discovered the Serpent Brotherhood's intent and both went out to rescue the remaining, or rather _surviving_ candidates and brought them into the Library to help solve the current mystery. Which ultimately lead to the choices and actions, and dare it be said, adventures that followed, culminating in three additional Librarians to Mr. Carson's _non_ -retired status as The Librarian.

Cassandra Cillian, Jacob Stone, and Ezekiel Jones.

When she was young, Cassandra was a math prodigy, and great things were expected of her. She won awards for academic excellence, trophies for many numerous science fairs, and she always got an A+ on every homework assignment and test. And then, when she was fifteen, the doctors diagnosed her with a oligodendroglioma, a frontal lobe brain tumor which was about the size of a grape. Brain cancer. She retained her intelligence and personality, but she became a synesthete. Synesthesia, where numbers are color, science is musical notes, and math is smells. For Cassandra, it was full on hallucinations and seeing the whole universe, sometimes more than one, in her head.

When first brought into the Library, she was in awe of the magic and all that it represented. And so, when the Serpent Brotherhood promised to use that magic and power, which the Library was hoarding and keeping out of the hands of the whole world, to save her life, she had no choice but to help them break in and steal from the Library. Of course, they almost immediately betrayed her and were going to kill her the moment she was no longer useful, but the other Librarians rescued her before that could happen. Flynn offered her the very power and magic that could save her life and cure her brain cancer. She gave it up to save his life instead, and after that she joined the Library and became one of the newest Librarians.

Quite recently, only a few months previously, the ticking clock that was the 'brain grape' in her head started to run out. Her doctors had a procedure that could potentially save her life, news that she'd been hoping for since she was fifteen years old. The surgery was risky, but if successful, she would live. But Cassandra had been a Librarian for a number of years by that point, and she'd turned her burden of being a synesthete into a wonderful and amazing gift that she did not want to lose. And the possibility existed that if she went through with the procedure, she would lose the gift that made her special amongst the Librarians. Jenkins, however, quickly uncovered what was going on and narrowly managed to retrieve Cassandra from the mission she was on and get her to the hospital in time. To her amazement, her gift was not gone, instead it had expanded and grown phenomenally!

Cassandra could now process raw data and magically share her thoughts and that data with others.

Jacob Stone was the son of an oil rigger and grew up in Oklahoma, and until Eve Baird showed up to rescue him from a bar fight with _ninjas_ , in _Oklahoma_ , he'd never lived more than five miles from the town where he grew up. He has a recorded IQ of 190, and is a student and expert in the subjects of history, art, surveying, literature, architecture, engineering, archaeology, egyptology, and martial arts. Although that last one only after spending time in Shangri-La and studying under the Monkey King.

He'd be the first to admit that he and his father never got along, but rather than face up to his problems, or even try to run away, Jacob just spent twenty years keeping his head down, while expressing his true passions using pseudonyms and other aliases to publish literary works and dissertations in all the academic fields he loved. The amazing part of that is that he never went to any school, getting all of his degrees via correspondence and distance learning.

When he first came to the Library, he did his best to support all the others and basically fulfill a 'big brother' type of role. He was hurt the most by Cassandra's initial betrayal of the Library and it took them a long time to regain that lost trust. As for Ezekiel, Jake has _never_ trusted the thief and the two constantly get on each other's nerves, though he at least knows the Australian would never betray him, and likewise he would never betray the egotistical thief, and neither of them would ever betray the Library.

He spent the majority of his time, when not out in the Field with the other Librarians, reading through the Library's vast collection of knowledge, studying and learning the true history of the world. After the Egyptian god of chaos and darkness, Apep, was released, however, he started pursuing his newest field of study, the martial arts. At first it was just weekly lessons and sparring with the Guardian, Eve, but he soon learned everything she had to teach, and so Jenkins got him a 'work study program' with the Monkey King, ruler of Shangri-La. He very quickly picked up the basic forms and technique after technique, until he could actually best his "sifu" in straight up sparring, where the only rule was 'no magic', which the Monkey King certainly had in spades, and he offered to teach Jacob some of them, but the Librarian refused. He'd seen first hand the corrupting influence of magic, even on those with the best of intentions, and he had no desire to succumb.

Nevertheless, one does not enter the world of magic, the world of the _Library_ , without being touched by it in turn. As reward for saving Shangri-La and his sifu from an evil that would have destroyed both, Jacob was granted the Power of the Inner Soul, taking the form of an intricate tattoo on his right forearm. What precisely that power does, Jacob Stone is still discovering to this day, though it did play a vital role in defeating Apep, that the tattoo did not vanish after the battle had ended speaks that its purpose has yet to be fulfilled.

Ezekiel Jones.

The name of the world's most infamous and self-aggrandizing thief. Every job he's pulled, every piece of art, jewels, or other priceless relic that he's stolen, he made sure that everyone knew that _he had stolen it_ , and not anyone else. Of course he didn't keep any of it. While he's never had any trouble fencing anything that he's stolen, Ezekiel came to understand very early in life that it isn't what you _have_ that makes life worthwhile, but what you _do_ with what you have. Save for what he needs to live comfortably on his own, he gives away and donates practically all the money that he 'earns' from stealing. Which is probably the one aspect of his life that he doesn't freely advertise.

To be fair, he's not the world's _greatest_ and certainly not the _best_ thief, though to hear him tell it that is not the case. He's made mistakes, and there are some tricks or traps or security systems that he couldn't get past, even on his best day. At least, not working alone.

Since joining the Library, Ezekiel Jones has learned the value of true friendship and done the impossible, at least once a week, twice before Friday. He's also risen to the occasion and proven that the trust placed in him by the other Librarians was not misplaced. And while he does, quite often, misuse and possibly abuse the magical artifacts placed within the confines of the Library, when it comes right down to it Ezekiel Jones will stand by his friends and do what is right, for the Library, for the world... but mostly for himself.

Though, none of that changed the fact that they were all getting on each others nerves, and from the context of the shouting, Jenkins had finally deduced what had happened.

"Would one of you care to explain to me," he interrupted, loud enough to be heard over their own shouting, "why there is a _stampede_ of dodgeballs barreling down the hallways of the Library?"

"I was trying to make bludgers," Cassandra confessed, barely pausing to take a breath between words, "the magical balls from the books about the ancient wizard sports games? I didn't really get a lot of the details, but I thought that having magical flying iron balls that home in on the enemies could be a good security measure. Not that Excalibur isn't an amazing and awesome security artifact already, that happens to fly through the air, but we all need back-up, right? Uh, anyway, I kinda messed up on the spell work, and instead of bludgers, I think I made a single dodgeball that replicates itself exponentially every time it hits the target."

"Have you tried _catching_ the ball?" Jenkins remarked with a sigh. "As I recall, that is one of the ways to 'out' the thrower in the game's official rules."

Almost as though in response to the immortal's statements, a few of the dodgeballs found there way into the annex room and immediately shot at each of the Librarians in turn, Jenkins included. Stone's arms flashed out and immediately caught the balls headed for himself and Cassandra. Ezekiel did a standing no-hand cartwheel and caught the ball on its rebound. Jenkins, he was sad to say, was forced to use both hands to catch the red rubber sphere careening toward his head, rather than just the one hand as Stone had employed. In a flash, all of the balls, save for the one in Jenkins' hand vanished, even the ones still bouncing around the rest of the Library.

"Erhrm," he cleared his throat, carefully handing the enchanted object over to Ms. Cillian. "Be sure to adequately disenchant that object before you destroy it."

She just nodded her head, holding the ball tight, so it wouldn't drop and start the mess all over again.

Shortly after the Librarians had left to complete the simple errand, Jenkins attention turned toward the ringing phone. He checked his watch, surprised that it had taken this long for Mr. Carson and Col. Baird to call for a return Door. He picked up the phone just in time to hear the Guardian on the other end shout, " _Jenkins_! _We need a door_!"

Knowing that the Colonel only screamed with that kind of urgency when time was of the essence, Jenkins wasted no time in rushing over to the globe and setting the Back Door for their exact coordinates. It felt like a small lifetime before the connection was established and the double swing doors lit up with magical energy and opened on their own. He held his breath, ready to break the connection the moment the Librarian and Guardian were safe on this side of the Door, and hopefully cutting off whatever danger was threatening them.

Jenkins waited by the globe controlling the Back Door.

TL—WH-13

 _Warehouse 13_

 _Norse Viking Aisle_

( _Bionicverse_ )

"So, what do you think?" Pete asked Myka as they made their way down the appropriate aisle. "Leave this bit of bling next to the 'Eye of Odin', Eric Bloodaxe's axe, Bjorn Ironside's helmet, or Thor's walking stick? Myka?"

"Huh? Did you say something, Pete?" she said distractedly, arms crossed, and head tilted to the right.

"You're not," he started to say, but when she looked back at him he already knew the answer even as he asked the question, "You're still mad at Artie for that trick with the plane and the parachuting? Look, Myka, you did great, and I had you the whole way, you were never in any danger..."

"That's not the point, Pete!" she snapped at him, stalking away.

Pete looked back and forth between his departing partner, the Artifact in his gloved hands, and the shelf where he'd been about to place it. Finally, he scowled at himself and gave a very Artie-like grumble before taking off after his partner (in more ways than one), the Artifact still in his possession.

"OK, so, uh, what is the point then?" he asked as he chased after her.

"We've been here for years now, Pete," she said.

"Yeah, about five and a half, almost six years now, by my count," he agreed. "And its been amazing! I mean, I'm pretty sure I made that clear with that whole meltdown I had when Mrs. Fredrick told us the Warehouse was moving, and then you told me you loved me and I told you I loved you and we started dating and..."

Myka reached out and put her hand over her partner's mouth.

"Still not the point, Pete," she sighed, releasing him after a moment.

"Then," he moved closer to her and put a comforting arm across her shoulders, "tell me what is, Mykes. I wanna help."

They'd stopped at the intersection, and Myka went over to one of the nearby shelves and sighed as she looked at the digital screen identifying Houdini's Wallet. Overhead, there was the Studio 54 Disco Ball. And just behind where Pete stood, not that he paid any attention, was Rheticus's Compass, right next to Howard Carter's Coffee Pot.

"This all started with just you and me, you know?" she mused out loud. "The President was visiting that museum, I was still dealing... Sam... and then we encountered our first Artifact."

"Ah yes, the Aztec zombie bowling ball from Hell," Pete remarked with an appropriate reminiscing look upon his face. "Y'know, I still stop by once a week just to make sure that thing is still secure in the Dark Vault?"

"Bloodstone," Myka automatically corrected him. "The Aztec Bloodstone. But then, after we both inadvertently saved the world by doing that, we both got transferred here! I'd thought, because I got the credit for saving the president's life, that I would be getting a promotion."

"And everyone, myself included," Pete added, "that because I got blamed for goofing off, that I was being punished. Or the very next step up from being fired. Turns out we _both_ got the promotion. Best job ever, right?"

Myka grinned at him, but just turned back to facing the shelf without saying anything.

"Mykes?" Pete started to frown, starting to wonder what this was all about.

"I could've gone back to DC, Pete," she told him. "After our first _official_ case was done, Dickinson called to say that I could go back, but I had ten seconds to say yes. I just let the time run out and hung up."

"Mind if I say duh here, Myka? Cause, 'Duh!' Best job ever!" Pete responded. "I mean, Artie, well he's always been grumpy, but he didn't baby us or treat us like newbs when we first showed up. He basically threw us into the deep end after giving us that tour that first day. America's Attic, Edison's bio-electric car, all of that, and then he just handed us the file and plane tickets and dropped us off in the deep end. And we swam Myka. Hell, don't know about you, but I started doing friggin _laps_!"

She gave him another grin, walking around behind him so she was now standing in front of the Compass. "Couple months later, Claudia showed up, started hacking the Warehouse, kidnapped Artie, and did everything she could to save her brother. First time we had to handle a case solo without Artie to call for backup. Wasn't the last though."

"Myka!" Pete spun her around, his hands on her shoulders. "What is this about? You're starting to freak me out just a little. Talk to me!"

"I've been thinking," she said, looking him in the eye. "About the future. My future. … _Our_ future."

He released her, surprised, but still unsure as to what all this was about. He didn't say anything though, whether that was a rare bit of wisdom, or just Pete's usual state of confusion, Myka didn't bother dwelling on it, rather she continued speaking.

"You're right Pete. This is the greatest job in the world. But how much longer do you think we can keep doing this? I mean, look at the record for couples that have worked at the Warehouse! Claudia can't keep a boyfriend for more than a few weeks. Artie and Dr. Vanessa are off and on again that nobody can even be sure they are a couple anymore. And then there's Jack and Rebecca!"

"Hey!" Pete interrupted. "Just because Jack Secord and Rebecca St. Clair were Warehouse Agents... who died... does not make them us! Or us, them! Or... something!"

"They were partners, and in love, Pete," Myka pointed out. "And when Jack gave his life, when he died while trying to stop an Artifact—which nearly killed you too—Rebecca was so devastated that she left the Warehouse and didn't come back until we showed up on her doorstep!"

"Whoa! Whoa-whoa-whoa, _WHOA_! Stop the crazy train right there, Myka Bering!" Pete held out his palm in a stop gesture, his face contorted in grief, surprise, and determination. "Are you talking about leaving the Warehouse again? All because Artie made you jump out of a plane?! Myka, that doesn't even _compare_ to the time HG tricked us all into helping her almost destroy the world! And, while Jinksie is awesome and a great guy, and he joined up because of the vacancy you left, I really don't want history repeating itself here. And again, really doesn't compare, even if you add on the whole BOLO thing."

"Pete!" Myka snapped at him. "I'm not leaving the Warehouse! Certainly not just because of," she shrugged and crossed her arms, "tonight. I, I've been thinking about this for a while now. And no, this isn't like just before Steve joined the Warehouse. This is," she sighed, "something different. I'm trying, I'm trying to picture my life in five years. Ten years. Fifty years from now. Assuming we both survive and are still alive and still sane and the world is still the same place and..." she trailed off.

"That's actually where I keep getting stuck at, actually," she said, tugging her curly dark brown hair back with one hand, keeping the other across her waist. "I mean, look at the history of the Warehouse. James MacPherson was Artie's partner for _years_ , Pete. And look at what happened to him, he was corrupted by the power the Artifacts represent and turned against the Warehouse, tried to sell out to the highest bidder and everything. And he died."

"H.G. Wells, Helena," Myka had to take a breath before finishing, "After her daughter was killed, she lost herself to grief, and she tried to destroy the world after accepting that Warehouse 12 wouldn't help her bring her daughter back. Walter Sykes actually destroyed the Warehouse in another timeline, until Artie used an Artifact to save us, which slowly corrupted him and turned him evil where he turned around and tried to destroy the world. Which then brought the Warehouse to the attention of Sutton and his family and releasing Paracelus, the former Caretaker of Warehouse 9, who was corrupted and turned evil and tried to, not destroy, but rule the world after becoming immortal and all powerful through the acquisition of Artifacts. Admit it, Pete! Everyone having anything to do with the Warehouse becomes corrupted and evil, or they die, or, or, or..." She was cut off as Pete rushed forward and kissed her quiet.

They both kept the kiss going for as long as either could stand, not noticing how the Disco Ball was now shining, soft tunes of " _I've Found Love_ " by _Love &Kisses_ coming from it. Nor did they notice how the Coffee Pot began to steam, Thomas Dekker's Buckled Shoes began tapping a small jig on their own, the Gold Spike from the Trans-Continental Railroad was rolling along its shelf, and the Eye of Heimdall in Pete's back pocket suddenly began to glow with an inner light. They did, however, note how the whole place, and each other, suddenly smelled like apples, though.

Finally, they broke apart, though Pete kept his hands around the back of her neck as he stared into her eyes and said, "That isn't gonna happen to us, Mykes. Neither of us is gonna let the other one turn against the Warehouse, let alone be corrupted and turn evil. As far as that whole dying-thing? Well, its part of the job and we both accepted that a long time ago, otherwise neither one of us would've joined the Secret Service. And that is the awesome thing about having partners. We keep each other alive and save each others butts. Even if you get more out of this than me, cause my butt is so totally hotter than yours. I've told you I can bounce a quarter off my gluteus maximus, right?"

She pulled back and punched him in the arm, now widely grinning.

"Ehhh!" Pete hissed, rubbing his arm, but he waggled his eyebrows at her and whispered, "You _do_ know that really turns me on, right?"

The grin turned more seductive, before falling back to a neutral smile as Myka brought her arms back down across her belly. Pete noticed this immediately and dropped all expression of hilarity.

"Myka, what, uh, what exactly is it that has you thinking about the future like this anyway?" he asked. "I mean, are you... are we... well, are _you_...? Cause, I swear, after the last time, I haven't gone anywhere near the Giltoy Dog Tags!"

"Doofus!" Myka scowled and hit him in the arm again. "I'm not pregnant! Geez Pete, we haven't even slept together!"

"Well, other than..." he was about to reference the time that they'd hazed Steve after Myka had come back and wound up in bed together with no memory of how it had happened.

"You know what I mean!" she snapped at him. "We haven't had sex, and... _I_ haven't had sex recently, so no, I'm _not_ pregnant! But."

"But?" he jumped on the lead. "But what?"

"But," she sighed, moving her hands from her belly to her hips, "I want a future, Pete. I want a future with you. I want a future with the Warehouse! I _want_ to be with you and maybe someday marry you and sometime after that, have children. And, while you were holding me, keeping me safe while we parachuted down, I could, I could see it." At his open mouth to no doubt say something stupid, she rapidly spoke, "Yes, I could see the Warehouse, but I could also see what our future is going to be like. The fights. The missions. The adventure. The excitement, and the love. Because I do love you, Pete."

"I love you too, Myka," he automatically replied, meaning every word.

Around them, the Artifacts and Warehouse began to react more noticeably, and yet they still did not notice.

"But then we landed, and I realized that none of that is going to be possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't, _nobody_ can predict the future, Pete! I could be affected by an Artifact that makes me hate you and try and kill you tomorrow! You could look at some woman on the street next week, and decide she's more worth your time than I am!"

"Myka!"

"Or, we could both die within the year!"

He had no words for that.

"I'm just, I just—I don't know what I am," Myka shrugged, hands dropping to her sides. "I guess I'm scared, and hopeful, but I'm supposed to be the pessimistic realist here, so I'm that too."

"Look, Myka, I— _OWW!_ What the...?!" Pete suddenly jumped and pulled the jeweled necklace out of his pocket and held it out by the chain. The jeweled part was glowing, not brightly, but enough for the two Warehouse Agents to recognize that it had activated. "Oh damn!"

"Quick, the Neutralizer!" Myka ran for the corner of the aisle.

"Really wishing I'd already put this on the shelf, but I'll settle for this not blowing up in our faces and turning out so we _don't_ die!" Pete screamed.

Howard Carter's Coffee Pot... _did not_ conjure a ferret, instead it shot off a jet of steam, which blew open the Compass and shook the shelf bad enough that the Gold Spike rolled to the floor, the Buckled Shoes flipped up and released a rainbow while knocking the Disco Ball off where it began shooting out light and music at full volume. All combined, it was no surprise that Myka never made it to the Neutralizing Station and Pete dropped the necklace... on top of the Gold Spike.

Back in Artie's office, Claudia, Steve, Artie, and the just-arrived-as-it-happened Mrs. Fredric were treated to a Nuclear-level flash of light as alarms all across the board started to go off.

And Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering were... elsewhere.

WH-13—TL

 _The Library_

 _St. Johns Bridge, Portland, OR_

( _BtVSverse_ )

Jenkins opened the Back Door to the correct coordinates. The magical gateway opened, the connection was established, and then...

There was a _blinding_ flash of light, originating from the portal, after which the alarm began blaring throughout the Library. When Jenkins and the three Librarians could see again, still rubbing the spots from their vision, they noticed two figures lying prone on the floor.

"Mr. Carson! Colonel Baird!" Jenkins called out.

"EVE!" all three young people shouted as they raced forward.

Then they all came up short as they noticed one single glaring fact as they approached.

The two people, even now picking themselves off the floor of the Library, the most secret and protected assemblage of magic in the whole world, were not the Librarian and his Guardian. Jenkins, quite honestly, had no clue who they were, or why _they_ had come through the Back Door instead of the intended targets!

"Uh, Myka?" the agent for Warehouse 13 asked his partner as he picked himself up off the floor, of a fancy looking library rather than the Warehouse, "Where are we?"

"I'm, uh, gonna have to get back to you on that, Pete," Myka responded.

TL—WH-13

 _Warehouse 13_

( _Bionicverse_ )

"Uh... Flynn?" Eve Baird groaned as she picked herself up off the floor, of an old warehouse rather than the Library, "Where are we?"

"I'm... gonna have to get back to you on that, Eve," Flynn Carson, the Librarian moaned, allowing his head to fall back to the floor.

 _Continued..._


End file.
